


And The World Will Turn To SAND EVERYWHERE

by chibiwriter



Category: Pokemon GO
Genre: Anime Tropes, Beach Holidays, Gen, Multi, Nonbinary Blanche, Vacation, guys being dudes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibiwriter/pseuds/chibiwriter
Summary: Happy One Year Anniversary tosurfacage'sAnd The World Will Turn To AshAU!Ever wondered what would happen if the cast of ATWWTTA took a beach vacation? Well, wonder no more! Shenanigans, memes, and, of course,sand in unfortunate placesawait you, my friend. Don't forget your sunscreen!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surfacage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surfacage/gifts).



> As always, please be sure to send [surfacage](http://www.surfacage.net/) all your love and support! ❤

The night was cool and calm – silent, too. It made sense, of course, seeing as this resort was tucked off in a remote location in order to afford its patrons the ultimate privacy with which to relax. That was one of the reasons she and other leaders had chosen it for their vacation destination, after all, though the stillness was admittedly a bit unnerving after the oppressive noise of the city.

Candela sighed and adjusted her shawl, a small breeze ruffling her hair and bringing the smell of the sea with it. She was walking back to the main lobby after going for a stroll on the beach, her sandals held in one hand as the other attempted to keep the silk cloth from slipping off her shoulders. She wasn’t cold, of course, but the aesthetic was what was important. If she was lucky, maybe she’d be able to lure in some company for the evening.

Blanche had holed themselves up in their room the moment they’d arrived and Spark was off gallivanting with both his assistant and her own. She didn’t know what exactly a ‘Boys Night Out’ entailed with those three, and honestly, she’d probably sleep better if she never did.

She sighed wearily, the dull smack of her bare feet against the smooth concrete adding a soothing rhythm to her walk. A glimmer through the small line of tree that bordered her path caught her eye and she turned, peering through the leaves and trunks to try to make sense of it. A figure stood leaning against the railing for another path at overlooked the bay, completely in the shadows save the way the moonlight and distant resort lights bounced off the loose silver strands that fell down their back. Her lips curled into a pleased smile, straightening her spine and shifting her stride into a strut as she made her way toward the person.

“Fancy seeing you here, darling,” she cooed, plastering herself against their back.

They tensed, a small, almost thoughtful pause occurring before they predictably attempted to dislodge her by rolling their shoulders. Unfortunately for them, she was more than familiar with the technique and simply wrapped her arms securely around their waist. They made an indignant noise and her smile became a smirk as she took the liberty of resting her chin on their shoulder, which they responded to by looking away and attempting to shrug her off more vigorously.

“Trying to get away?” she teased.

“Away from _you_ ,” they retorted, huffing and apparently giving up on making her let go. Aggravation rolled off them in waves, silent and annoyed, which she found particularly endearing.

Candela huffed, fingering the buttons on their shirt mischievously. She didn’t remember them wearing this top earlier in the day, but perhaps Annie had taken them out to dinner. Perky as Blanche’s assistant was, she was quite good with motivating them to be sociable. Well, less _reclusive_ , anyway.

“That’s too bad,” she said after a moment, nosing the side of their face, “I quite like being around you.” She raised a brow at the derisive snort she received in response.

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe,” they intoned drily.

“Oh?” she said, surprised. In the back of her mind, Moltres stirred. It assessed the situation through her, something warm and flickering and decidedly _amused_ rippling through it. Her confusion was meet with prim glee, and the bird refused to share just what it found so funny. She considered pestering it, but was distracted when the object of her interest raised a shoulder to shrug.

“We fight so often, some might consider us enemies,” they said, words lilting with dull mirth.

She let out a single huff of laughter. “Since when do you care what other people think?”

They didn’t respond, simply snorting. How odd. Normally they would’ve risen to the bait and dismissed her for even implying that other people’s opinions even registered. That would be a lie, of course, but she was one of the very few people that knew that. For all their icy blustering, her best friend was an awkward soul that was _very_ aware of people – just, you know, not very aware of social cues.

A stray breeze blew down the path and they shifted in her arms, shivering slightly, and Candela took that as her cue to snuggle up even closer. “Cold, darling?” she cooed.

“Always,” came the reply and her lips curled into a delighted smile.

“Why don’t we move inside, hm?” she purred, brushing her lips against their ear, “I’m sure we could find _some_ way to warm you up.”

“Will we really?” they replied, turning to finally look at her, smiling slightly. No, wait, that wasn’t a smile. The curve of their lips – while distracting in their own right – was wrong. The expression was too smug for their normally placid face, to the point it would’ve looked more at home on—

A sudden realization made her heart skip a beat.

“ _You!_ ” Candela hissed, recoiling as though touching them had burned her (an amusing thought, though ultimately the only accurate description for how much her skin was crawling). She took a few steps back, scowling and adjusting her shawl. In the back of her mind, Moltres was cawing itself sick with laughter.

“Me,” Noire agreed. They turned to face her at last, leaning back against the railing and folding their arms. They seemed entirely too pleased with themselves and she had to resist the urge to reintroduce her fist to its favorite place on their face.

“What the hell are you doing here, Rocket?!” she demanded, glaring at them.

“I could ask you the same thing, Valor,” they replied with a sneer, looking her up and down.

She suddenly remembered her more casual attire but lifted her chin regardless, crossing her own arms defiantly, sandals still clutched in her hand by their straps. While clothing might make a man, _she_ would be a queen even in rags.

Noire raised a brow. “Well?” they drawled, “To what to I owe to _honor_ of your presence? Couldn’t stand me taking a break so you’ve come to fuck with me while I’m on vacation, you old hag?” They grinned when her lips curled at the insult.

“Hardly!” she scoffed, shifting her weight to one hip cockily. She blinked, however, when their words finally registered, her ire fizzling in the face of genuine surprise. “Wait, _you’re_ on vacation?”

“Yup! Gotta keep the grunts’ spirits up somehow, so every year we take a couple of squads on vacation.” They scowled at her suddenly, brows sinking low over their narrowed green eyes. “Why the fuck are you looking at me like that, Valor? Got something to say?”

“No, it’s just-” She laughed, shaking her head. “Well, I never expected _Team Rocket_ to actually care about something like _morale_.”

They snorted, rolling their eyes. “Oh, fuck off.”

“Only if you’ll do the same, Rocket.”

“Bite me, bitch.”

“Ask _nicely_ , darling.”

The two glared at each other for a moment before Noire huffed, waving a hand. “Why the fuck are you here, anyway? Bullshitting aside, I won’t flatter myself too much in thinking it’s all for little old me.”

“Well, you are _little_ , I’ll give you that.” Candela grinned at their incensed expression before continuing. “Vacation fever struck for us as well, Rocket, if you must know. With all the revenue and data our teams have been collecting these past few months, the Professor graciously granted us all some time off. Should’ve known this resort was too good to be true-” she pinned them with a dubious stare- “Seeing as they’ll let just _anyone_ stay here.”

“Hey, don’t fucking pin this on me!” they spat, scowling, “Like hell I would actually want to be anywhere near you freaks!”

“Oh, really? That’s a tad hard for me to believe, given your obsession with interfering with Blanche’s life,” she said, stepping closer and cutting off their automatic protest, “I seem to recall a gala that got crashed just because your twin was to present an award to a nonprofit.”

“That-”

“And the charity event for the new laboratory on 5th Street that Mystic Labs helped fund that ended up in smoke.”

“I wasn’t even-”

“And the 7-Eleven that-”

“Will you shut the fuck up?!” Noire exploded, face twisted in disgust. The previous light-hearted atmosphere (well, for _them_ ) had condensed around them, though it was likely all her fault. She knew it had been a low-blow to go after their estranged relationship with their twin, but she just couldn’t help it. The Rocket Executive needed to be put in their place as much as possible.

“Depends.” Candela tilted her head mockingly. “Have I made my point?”

“Oh, yeah, really hammered it home,” they hissed, making a rude gesture at her, “You’re a fucking bitch that likes to hear her own voice and doesn’t know _shit!_ ”

Her eyes narrowed as her lips pulled down into a frown. Moltres had stopped laughing in the back of her mind and she could sense its ire, swirling rage building within her and fanning the flames of her own anger at the offense. Still, she wouldn’t lose control. Not yet. “Why are you here, Rocket, at this _particular_ resort? And it _better_ be the truth.”

“I don’t owe you shit!” Noire snapped, lowering themselves and raising their fists defensively when she took another step toward them.

“Be that as it may, we both know I have ways of making you talk. Well, _scream_ , but what’s the difference?” The ground beginning to smoke under her bare feet, smoke filtering passed her lips with her next exhale. She wondered idly how effective it would be to dangle them over the edge of the railing and the idea seemed to please her Titan greatly.

They glanced down, expression twisting at the sizzling cement, before huffing out a disbelieving scoff. “You want the truth? Fine. Amelie made these reservations _months_ ago. We had no fucking clue you assholes would be here.”

“A likely story.”

“It’s the _truth_.” The word seemed warped, twisted by their snide tone. They shrugged and lowered their arms. “You can even check with the front desk if you’re that fucking paranoid.”

“Oh, I assure you that I will. And should I catch even a hint of foul play…” She let the words hang, the threat well received by the way they tensed and leveled her with an intense glare. It was an attractive look, if only by the virtue of them sharing a face with someone who was, in her opinion, much more beautiful.

A tense silence descended between them, the night growing dark and cold upon the conclusion of their heated discussion. They continued to size each other up, of course, but everything that needed saying had already been said.

“So,” Noire said, breaking the quiet in their usual obnoxious manner, “Blanche and that electric dumbass are here, too, I take it?”

Candela lifted her chin defensively. “What’s it to you?” She winced when they grinned, belatedly realizing she’d given them _exactly_ what they’d wanted.

“Oh, you know,” they drawled, kicking off the railing and standing, “I have my reasons.” They strode forward, brushing past her as they headed toward the main office.

“You’d better not ruin this for them, Noire,” Candela hissed, turning on her heel to glare at their back, “I’m serious.”

Noire lifted their arm, giving her a middle-fingered salute in acknowledgement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Syric - he is a Team Rocket OC with his own Facebook page. [Please go check him out](https://www.facebook.com/MedicSyric/)!  
> 

“If you are attempting to shame me into changing my attire, it will not work.”

“You don’t know that!”

“It hasn’t worked in the ten years we’ve known each other, Candela. I highly doubt your pouting is suddenly going to become more effective.”

“I’m not pouting!” Candela protested, her pout increasing when they simply scoffed at her. “Come on, Blanche! Would it kill you to show a _little_ skin?” Their reply was a derisive snort.

“Skin cancer is an epidemic, you know,” they drawled, adjusting the strap of their beach bag, “One that I’d prefer not to become a statistic for.” Their suit was perfectly functional for a day at the beach, thank you _very_ much, and honestly it was offensive to even consider taking advice from someone who made a point to wear as little clothing as possible _whenever_ possible.

Everyone else had already made for the beach, the siren song of the crashing waves too powerful to ignore even for their stalwart assistant. Granted, Go had apparently mentioned something about a cluster of Staryu he and Spark had seen on their morning run at breakfast – a meal they had missed due to their intrinsic inability to go to sleep before the Pidgeys started chirping – and the young woman had taken off _sprinting_. Candela apparently had never seen her move so quickly and was understandably impressed.

They, too, would have been proud of her drive if it hadn’t resulted in their tardiness to the day’s festivities. Lucky for them, their _dear_ friend had opted to go wake them up and drag them down to the beach herself. It wasn’t the first time she’d flopped on top of them in the morning, and it wasn’t likely to be the last.

Said friend huffed a sigh and slung an arm around their shoulders, batting her eyelashes at them sadly when they glared at her. “Please darling?” she cooed, “Just for me?”

“No.”

“Oh, come _on_ ,” she said, sinking fully into whining (likely just to get on their nerves), “You look _so_ cute when you get all your summer sun spots!”

“That is ridiculous. They do not alter my appearance in the slightest.”

“True, you’re gorgeous by default,” she acquiesced, her eyes going half-lidded as she used a finger to trace their jawline, “Still, they give me an excuse to stare at you all day.”

They cleared their throat, attributing the sudden rush of heat that blossomed on their cheeks to the weather. “How childish. They’re just freckles, Candela.” They glanced at her, sighing softly at the overly offended look she sent their way. “Besides, even if I wanted to change attire, it’s not like I brought a- what on earth are you holding?”

“A spare!” Candela said cheerfully, shaking the suit she’d pulled from her own bag at them, “I’m _always_ prepared for a wardrobe change, darling!”

Blanche stared at the proffered garment dubiously (though calling it a ‘garment’ was honestly being far too generous - it was nothing more than loose collection of strings and three very small bits of fabric). “That is not an outfit, it is a sewing kit.” A pause. “No, wait, I take that back – it would be rude to compare the two seeing as a sewing kit _actually_ serves its intended purpose.”

“Hey, this serves a purpose!”

“And that would be?”

Candela just grinned and waggled her eyebrows.

They rolled their eyes and looked away from her, brain still struggling to figure out how one would even go about wearing such a thing. Candela sighed in defeat and shoved the suit back into her bag, though Blanche knew better than to think it wouldn’t reappear at a later date. She was notoriously opinionated when it came to fashion, as well enjoying them suffer in basically any capacity, and that outfit would provide her with both easily.

They’d have to be on their toes.

The two of them continued walking in comfortable silence before reaching the end of the path, where the smooth concrete was overtaken by a swell of sand already mottled by several footsteps, and paused to take in the scene before them.

Go had somehow managed to join a group of what appeared to be over-privileged college kids in a game of beach volleyball. Carl had plopped himself into a seat nearest the bar and seemed quite contented – shades on, headphones in, drink in hand. Annie had a cluster of children near what they assumed to be a tide pool and was pointing to various sections and chatting amicably with them.

As they scanned the shoreline for the last member of their crew they saw someone they hadn’t expected to see and their heart made a delightful trip up to their throat.

“Candela,” Blanche rasped, “Why is Noire here?”

“Hm?” Candela hummed, already distracted by the other beachgoers.

They reached out the grab her arm, nails likely sinking into her skin from the force of their grip, still staring dumbfounded at their twin. “ _Why is Spark dunking Noire into the ocean?_ ”

“Oh,” she said, blinking quickly as she finally focused in on what was causing them distress. She pursed her lips as she squinted down the beach at the duo, arms folding across her chest in apparent disgust. “A better question is why he isn’t holding them down longer,” she intoned, lowering her voice when she continued, “Though, ‘forever’ might still not be enough for that _particular_ nuisance.”

They turned to her swiftly, eyes wide and ponytail flicking. “You _knew_ they were here?!” they hissed, a sharp stab of betrayal spearing their chest. She at least had the decency to look uncomfortable, shifting slightly under their intense gaze. “Candela-”

“I only found out last night.”

“Last night?”

“We… ran into each other.”

“You ran into my twin _last night_ ,” they growled through gritted teeth, “And you didn’t think, for _one_ minute, that I would need to-”

“Forgive me for attempting to afford you _some_ blissful ignorance!”

“Ignorance is never blissful!”

“You guys talking about Blisseys or something?” chirped a voice and the two of them jumped. They turned and gawked at Spark, who was striding up to them with a quizzical look on his face. Seawater dripped off him, skin glistening in the midmorning sun. Candela let out an appreciative noise as Blanche suddenly found the sand under their feet to be incredibly interesting.

Spark quirked a brow at the two of them when neither answered him and shook his head viciously, running a hand through his hair and attempting to fluff up the sodden strands.

“Geeze, Spark, what are you? A Growlithe?” Candela said with a laugh, raising her hands to shield herself from the spray.

“You bet! Fiercest one there is!” He growled at her playfully, bringing his hands up to pantomime clawing, letting out a dramatic yelp when she laughed and punched his shoulder. The sound of shifting sand and muttered curses caused them all to turn slightly, reminded abruptly of the reason for the previous tension.

“Birdbrain, I swear to _fuck_ -”

“Noire,” Blanche said coldly, cutting off their tirade.

“Blanche,” Noire replied, coming up to stand beside Spark.

“Rocket,” Candela growled.

“Valor,” they sneered back.

“Boss,” Amelie said, striding up to the group with an exasperated expression. Syric walked beside her, his tall frame dwarfing her more petite build to the point of hilarity.

“Amelie,” was the reply.

“Blanche, Candela,” the giant medic rumbled, offering each a courteous nod.

“Syric,” they replied simultaneously, Blanche returning the nod while Candela leered at his musculature admiringly. She hummed when he winked and flexed for her, returning the favor eagerly, the two grinning at each other after a moment of mutual oogling.

“Spark!” Spark cheered, scratching the back of his neck when the rest of the group turned to look at him, “Sorry, I was feelin’ left out.” The amount of eye-rolling he received would be felt by the next three generations.

“So,” Syric said slowly, looking around the group, “Looks like we’re all here. On vacation. At the same time… I don’t suppose we could all agree here and now to play nice, eh? For the sake of everyone having a good time and no one ending up in the hospital?” He sent a pointed look in the direction of his boss and the Valor leader, both of whom blinked back at him innocently.

“Depends,” Blanche said, lifting their chin as they stared him down, “Can you Rockets guarantee you’ll be on your best behavior?”

Noire jumped in before he could reply. “Only if you fuckers agree to do the same.”

“Oh, please,” Blanche scoffed, “Don’t lump us with you trouble-making troglodytes.”

“Oooh – _troglodytes!_ ” Noire jeered, throwing up their hands in mock-fear, “Look that one up in the dictionary before coming out today, did you, _mon chou_?” The smug effect was ruined slightly by their high-pitched yelp when both of their subordinates smacked them upside the head.

“Hey, c’mon guys!” Spark protested, reaching out to hold Candela back as she started for the Rocket Executive with fists at the ready, “We’re at the beach! The sun is shining, the waves are crashing on the shore, Carl’s getting sunburned as we speak!” He paused to wave at him, Valor Two raising his glass in acknowledgement. “It’s a beautiful day to relax and have fun!”

“Pounding this asshole into the sand could be both fun _and_ relaxing, darling,” Candela said sweetly, her smile all teeth as Noire stuck their tongue out at her.

“Easy now,” Syric tried, only to be ignored completely.

“Bring it, Valor.”

“Boss-”

“Fine,” Blanche said suddenly, face an expressionless mask, “We’ll agree to a temporary cease-fire.”

“We _will?_ ” Candela asked incredulously, giving voice to the group’s confusion as the others simply blinked and stared at the Mystic leader dumbly.

They locked eyes with their twin for a moment, lips thinning slightly, then nodded. They then brushed past the others to head toward the beach at long last, long ponytail swinging behind them. Noire watched them go, face unreadable. The remaining two Team Leaders and two Rockets exchanged a bewildered look then gave a wordless, communal shrug.

“Awesome!” Spark cheered, turning to Noire, “Sooo, uh, what’s a troglodyte? Some new kind of Pokemon?” He pouted when they shook themselves out of their stupor and immediately laughed at him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by camping with my own family and hanging out with my male cousins.  
> ... I don't even _like_ beer wtf.

“ _It was a dark and stormy night-_ ”

“Shut the fuck up, Spark. Nobody cares.”

“Aww, but spooky stories are totally a tradition for camping out! Well, that, and having really loud sex to see if it would scare off the local wildlife. Speaking of which-” He was silenced by the bag of marshmallows beaning him right between the eyes.

“Nice shot,” Go said, sending the Rocket Executive a cheeky thumbs up while his Team Leader whined at him. He, predictably, ignored the complaining blond and instead lifted his toasted treat from the fire. Blowing on it gently, he was pleased to see the outside was a light golden brown as opposed to the near pitch-black of his previous attempts.

“Hey, you finally didn’t burn one!” Spark cheered. His attempt to steal the marshmallow was met with an icy glare that rivaled Blanche’s and he wisely retracted his hand before the other man could bite it off.

“I like the burnt ones,” Syric said, tossing the chocolate and graham crackers at Go and snorting when the other man fumbled with the packages and almost dropped them _and_ his perfect marshmallow into the sand.

“You _would_ ,” Noire intoned, nudging him in the ribs. The medic nudged them back, glare weakened by the fact he was obviously struggling not to grin.

“The char adds to the flavor!”

“Yeah, and Spark has a double-digit IQ.”

“ _Hey!_ ”

The others laughed at his offense, prompting him to grumble until Go punched his shoulder jovially. They sat around the fire in a happy, contented silence of a while, watching the flames and heckling each other about their marshmallow roasting prowess (or lack thereof). Alcohol had been procured for the outing – beer, naturally – and soon all the members cheeks that were flushed by more than just the fire.

“You know,” Go said, carefully arranging his s’more, “It’s a shame Carl couldn’t join us.”

“Oh, you know him,” Spark drawled, shoving five marshmallows into his mouth at once, “Dat ole silber foss is plahfing de fielff.”

“Uh, can I get a translation?” Syric asked, torn between disgust and admiration as Spark shoved another two puffs into his mouth and shrugged.

“Don’t worry – I speak dumbass,” Go said, taking a bite out of his prize and sighing happily before continuing, “He called Carl a ‘silver fox playing the field’ because he’s currently trapped in the horrors of a ‘Girl’s Night’ with Leader Candela, Annie, and Amelie. I think Leader Candela said something about trying to drag Leader Blanche out of their room, but we’ll see how successful she was tomorrow.”

“Ah, I see,” the medic replied, raising his beer solemnly, “Poor man.”

“Yeesh. Yeah, you couldn’t fucking pay me to be in a room with those three when the alcohol starts flowing,” Noire said, stealing the marshmallows from Spark and the chocolate from Go, “I can only hope that Amelie decks that Valor bitch at least once, as a testament to our friendship.”

“Hey now,” Spark said, “You don’t know it’ll end in a fist fight! Maybe they’ll all get giggly and cuddly, hanging off each other and complimenting everything in sight and shit. Might even start making out with each other – I know Candy would!” He worked his jaw a bit and took a swig of his own beer, punctuation the gulp with an impressive burp.

Go narrowed his eyes at his leader. “… You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?”

“Only every time I take a shower, buddy.” He grinned when the other man groaned and buried his head in his hands. Go raised his head soon after, however, when the sound of approaching footsteps sounded behind him, and the two of them turned to inspect the uninvited guest.

“Woah, Blanche, is that you?” Spark said, tilting his head and peering into the darkness, “Everything okay? It’s not like you to be this far out from the resort in the middle of the night.”

“I’m fine,” they replied, words fuzzy around the edges, “Just… Hiding, I suppose. May I join you?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Syric said, casting a glance to the others around the fire. He shifted, making room between himself and Noire, the older twin not even bothering to move from their spot. They hadn’t taken their eyes off the other since they appeared, watching intensely as they shuffled into the firelight toward the offered seat.

Blanche sat primly on the log beside their twin, obviously at odds with the rustic setting, though not as much as they would normally be. Their appearance was slightly rumpled – hair mussed and shirt untucked, their normally stiff spine curved slightly, as though sitting straight required too much effort. Their lips were poutier than usual, cheeks flushed, eyes slightly fogged and glittering in the warm glow of the fire.

“So, uh, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Leader Blanche? Or, er, beach, I suppose,” Go asked, looking them over.

“And in such a state!” Syric chimed in, squinting and leaning toward them, “Is… is your collar _singed?!_ ”

They blinked at him tiredly, shrugging with one shoulder almost helplessly. “Candela is… much. Too much. When she has alcohol.” They waved a hand in a lazy yet intricate pattern, “You know how it goes with her.”

“And you couldn’t keep up with her muchness?” Spark asked, snorting when they simply nodded.

“I’m gonna kill her,” Noire growled, rising to their feet, beer bottle cracking in their hand, “I’m gonna fucking _eviscerate_ that-”

“You will do no such thing,” Blanche replied coolly, pulling them back down onto the log harshly and yanking the bottle from their grasp before it could shatter. They swatted at Noire’s hands when they reached to retrieve their drink, pressing the opening to their lips and draining it right in front of them.

“You little shit! That was mine!”

“Oh?” Blanche said dully, handing them back the empty bottle, “Sorry.”

“Want another one?” Spark asked, already reaching for the cooler before they answered. He tossed a bottle their way, blinking when Blanche snatched it out of the air gracefully.

Noire turned to them with a snarl. “Oh, fuck no!” they hissed, “Give me that! You’ve obviously had enough.”

(“Pot and kettle,” Spark whispered to Go when the Rocket Executive swayed in their seat, the other man almost snorting his own drink.)

“Shut up,” they retorted, twisting off the top easily, the ice forming on the outside of the glass giving away the reason behind their unusual strength. That beer went quickly, the men in the circle making impressed grunts when they tipped it back fully within seconds of starting.

“Thirsty?” Spark quipped.

“Very,” Blanche replied, using their free hand to stifle a hiccup and missing the predatory look the blond sent their way.

“Okay, that’s it,” Noire said, grabbing Blanche by the arm and attempting to drag them off, “We’re taking you back to the resort.” They were brought up short by Blanche’s empty beer bottle being thrown at their head. It didn’t have enough momentum to shatter, bouncing off and dropping back down onto the sand with a dull, almost comedic ‘ _clunk’_.

“Ow, shit! What the _fuck?!_ ”

“You lost the right to tell me what to do a long time ago,” Blanche said, tugging their arm out of Noire’s grasp, face twisted, “Right around the time you-”

“That doesn’t matter!” Noire snapped, cutting them off and rounding on them, hands curling into fists, “I’m the oldest, so I get to say when you’re being a fucking idiot and need to be stopped.”

Blanche didn’t respond, expression stiff, their own hands curling into fists for a moment. They wordlessly moved toward the cooler and reached down, pulling two new drinks out with one hand. “Prove it,” they said, eyes burning fiercely in the firelight as they held out one of the bottles to Noire. Their twin glared at the beer for a moment, the tension radiating off the two of them thick enough to cut.

The three men exchanged a glance, each straightening and preparing to intervene if things got ugly.

Something passed between the two and Noire broke the silence with a derisive scoff, stealing the bottle from the other’s hand. “You’re going to regret challenging me, brat.”

“We’ll see,” Blanche shot back, opening their drink and holding it out to their twin, lips twitching into a small smirk to match the feral grin that spread across Noire’s own mouth when they brought their drink up as well, the bottles clinking together in a discordant chime.

“Hey, I want in!” Spark said, standing and reaching to knock his own bottle against the twins’.

“This should be interesting,” Syric drawled.

“Should we be letting them do this?” Go asked, glancing at him, “Isn’t it, I don’t know, kind of dangerous to let those two get drunk? Not to mention Spar-”

The medic snorted. “You’ve never seen them more than tipsy, have you?”

“Is that supposed to mean something?” he hedged, frowning when the other man simply chuckled and took another swig of his own beer, hiding a smile in the rim.

“You’ll see.”

And hour and a half and the rest of the cooler later, Go did, in fact, _see_. He also had to keep swatting his leader’s hand every time it tried to sneak up the back of his shirt or down into his shorts, but that was par the course for his _life_ at this point.

“What’s better than this? Guys bein’ dudes,” Spark slurred, pausing briefly, “And, er, nonbinaries bein’ non-gender-conformin’.” Both twins raised their final beers to him and he grinned.

The two of them had started off sitting rigidly apart – well, as much as one could when splitting a log between three people with the third person being the size of an _Ursaring_ – matching each other (and Spark) gulp for gulp, but time, warmth, and alcohol quickly saw them hanging off one another in a slowly melting humanoid puddle.

Blanche rested their head on Noire’s shoulder, arm curling around their waist as they clutched their bottle loosely. Their twin pressed their cheek against the top of their head, arm slung around their shoulders, fingers running through the other’s hair idly. Their customary bickering and blustering had slowly faded away into mumbled comments that weren’t, as the night went on, entirely coherent. Or _English_ , for that matter.

“Do you even know what they’re sayin’, Sy?” Spark asked, using his mostly-empty bottle to gesture to the pair. He pouted when Go slapped his hand away from his shorts for the third time in the last ten minutes, taking a swig from his beer.

“Mostly,” the medic admitted, “It’s a mixture of sass and babytalk.”

“Sooo, their usual conversations, then.”

“Heh.”

“We’re _right here_ ,” Noire said, muttering under their breath, “Fucking _connards_.”

“Noire,” Blanche complained, butting the top of their head against their twin’s jaw, “No more cursing. I don’t- I don’t like it. When you speak like that.”

“Like what?” they asked, curious.

“Like a, uh,” they paused, frowning slightly as they struggled to find the right words, “Like a brainless… _something_?” They scowled. “You sound like a _thug_. I don’t like it.” They shifted slightly, rubbing their cheek on Noire’s shirt.

“Well, I fucking _do_ ,” Noire shot back, “Like it, that is. So there.”

“ _Nooiire_ ,” they whined.

“ _Blaaanche_ ,” the other echoed mockingly, grinning at the pout they received.

Blanche pawed at their twin’s face and predictably yelped when they bit their fingers and licked the length of their palm. Face twisted in disgust, they wiped their slobbery hand all over Noire’s shirt and giggled drunkenly when they made an offended noise. “Why won’t you do what I want?” they asked, almost missing their mouth when they tried to take a drink, “’s not like it would be hard.”

“Heh, you said ‘hard’,” Spark said, draping an arm over Go’s shoulders and snickering at his own lewd joke.

“Shut up, fuckass.”

“Quiet, Spark.”

“Maybe try asking them nicely, Leader Blanche?” Go offered, ignoring the way his leader had leaned in close and was currently snuffling his neck and hair.

Blanche blinked at him dully (likely having to recall why he was even there) before tilting their head up to stare at their twin with large, glassy eyes. “No more cursing, _s'il vous plait, mon chou._ ” Noire considered them for a moment, expression softening, then they scoffed.

“ _Non, je fais ce que je veux._ ”

Syric snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yes, I daresay you _do_.” He and Noire shared a grin while Go and Spark looked on in confusion and Blanche sulked, hiding their flushed face in Noire’s shoulder.

Spark stood suddenly, tossing his empty bottle into the trash bag they’d brought, the loud, almost angry ringing making everyone wince. He then stretched tall, a small sliver of his stomach peeking out from the motion, before rolling his shoulders and twisting his torso a few times. He blew out a heavy gust of air, hands on his hips with a dopey smile on his face.

“Goin’ somewhere, jerkwad?” Noire asked, raising a brow when he nodded cheerfully.

“Yup! I heard something rustlin’ behind that big rock over there a while back and I wanna go check it out.” He reached down and grabbed Go by the arm, lifting him up easily. “With Go! Together! Alone!”

“Wha- Spark no!”

“Spark _yes!_ ” the blond argued, already dragging him away from the fire.

“Have fun,” Blanche mumbled, waving them off, “Don’t die.”

Spark paused, Go trapped in his clutches, and turned to look at the others with a suddenly serious face. “Don’t forget to douse the fire and clean up.”

“Aye, aye, sir!” Syric said, giving him a lazy, two fingered salute.

The trio watched the two men walk off – well, Spark was walking while Go was being basically dragged behind him, stumbling, with protests that seemed to grow weaker and weaker the further they moved away from the camp. The dying fire’s crackling seemed especially loud in their absence, barley more than a few flickering flames from dark red embers.

“Well, I think that’s our cue to pack up and turn in for the night,” the medic said with a sigh, putting his hands on his knees and groaning as he rose to his feet.

“What?” Noire said, tilting their head, “Why?”

“Heh, well, if either of you wanted to stay, be my guest.” He shrugged. “Could find out if you were a voyeur that way, I suppose.”

“A what?” Blanche said, words slurred, innocently confused even as comprehension dawned in Noire’s eyes and their face screwed up in equal parts disgust and horror.

“They’re gonna do that?” they exploded, “On the _beach?!_ ”

“Yes?” Syric said, quirking a brow as he bent to collect a few of the bottles that had missed the trash and shove them in the bag.

“That’s fucking disgusting! This is a public space - people _swim_ here!” they hissed, gesturing with their beer angrily. They then drained it in one swallow and handed both theirs and Blanche’s already empty bottle to Syric when he held out a hand expectantly. He tossed both into the bag then crouched down to shovel sand onto the dying fire.

Blanche blinked, pursing their lips with furrowed brows. “Oh,” they said simply in realization, “They’re going to fornicate.”

“Yup.”

“Don’t think about it too much, _mon chou,_ ” Noire ordered, leaning over to toss a few of their own handfuls of sand onto the embers. Without their twin acting as their support, Blanche wobbled in their seat and nearly fell backwards – saved only by the grace of Arceus taking pity on them and not allowing it to happen.

“But…” A small pause. “That could mean _sand_ in- in _unfortunate_ places.”

Noire and Syric looked at each other and burst out laughing.

The medic ended up having to haul both twins back to the resort – Blanche thrown over his shoulder because walking was currently above their paygrade and Noire hanging onto him for dear life for nearly the same reason, trash bag clutched in Noire’s free hand clinking with their empty bottles. He hummed an old tune, aware of the two hands clasping each other behind his back, but choosing not to comment on them.


End file.
